


Yuri Plisetsky and the Team of Punch-Me-Not

by mockinrine



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Comedy, Feels, Gen, Swearing, a lil bit of drama, cake murder, i have no other tag ideas forgive me, this is mostly fun and stupid but it can get feelsy i guess, this is only yurio's fault smh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9338945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockinrine/pseuds/mockinrine
Summary: Yuuri, Victor, Chris, and Otabek have placed a bet against Phichit, JJ, Michele, and Sara. They’re all in France for a competition and the first squad has three days to “tame” Russia’s little tiger fairy. Yurio just has to be nice for a bit. How hard can it be?





	1. Attempt Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! I'm back into fanfics after a while and y'all can thank YOI for this wonder. This is some silly ass idea I recently came up with to do some writing warm-ups, but something tells me it could get intense and feelsy. Uh oh.
> 
> Or stay hella stupid. That works too.
> 
> Anywho, have everyone trying to get Yurio to be nice. In other words, trying to split the sea in two. Any bets on who'll be Moses?

\--------------------------

“Has anyone ever seen this guy smile?” JJ huffed, standing the farthest away from the rest of the group.

“Does he have to be nice or just _play_ nice?” Chris piqued, the eyes of the others turning immediately to him. “If you know what I mean.”

There were numerous collective groans, but it was only Yuuri whose cheeks flushed after he picked up the information. “C-Chris!” His voice cracked midway through and his arms frantically moved in front of himself. “He’s fifteen!”

“Fifteen, Chris,” Victor approved over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“That means he’s underage!” Yuuri continued his plea.

“Underage, Chris!”

Yuuri turned around slowly, his expression turned meek and defeated the moment his gaze met Victor’s face, coiled in childish pride and a glowing aura. All Yuuri could say was a deflated, “Yes… Thank you, Victor…”

Everyone else quickly moved on, but Yuuri could have sworn he’d heard Chris utter, “I didn’t hear a no…” under his breath as he combed a hand through his hair.

“Alright, everyone!” Phichit chirped, interrupting the buzzing of the idle chatter with a clap of his hands and a grin on his face. “Remember the deal: you take turns in trying to get on Yuri’s good side and if you manage to get him to do or say anything even _remotely_ nice in these three days, you win.”

“And don’t even think of lying about it!” Sara cried out, her cheeks puffing as she spoke out. Some considered that it was an incredibly naïve demand, but they were all fortunate with the given line-up. Yuuri would never lie for something as shallow as a free dinner and Victor had no choice but to abide by Yuuri’s choice. Chris was too proud for any possible trickeries. He saw it as an opportunity to showcase his endless stream of charms – a test with himself, if you will. The free meal was barely of any importance. And Otabek… well, Otabek didn’t exactly volunteer to be part of this charade. Rather, it was Victor who’d lugged him into this deal after noticing that Yurio had spent some time with him. There was no guarantee Otabek would even try to succeed, though.

Currently, all eight of them were gathered around a table at the restaurant of the hotel they were spending these three days at. Of course, the tables weren’t normally big enough to fit numbers like theirs, so they’d resorted to stuffing some extra chairs around one of them, forcing Yuuri to be pressed just a tad too uncomfortably close into Chris. Or maybe it was the other way around and it was totally on purpose. Their competition was in two days, but their minds were at ease enough to let them doing something so stupid, as Michele and JJ had flatly called it.

“This is so stupid,” JJ emphasized, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Seriously, why did you even place the bet if it’s so stupid?” Chris responded, his shoulder squeezing into Yuuri’s a bit too obviously.

JJ slammed his cup on the table, a brilliant grin blaring the whiteness of his teeth. With a wink, he stretched his index finger as he proclaimed, “How can you win if you don’t partake?”

But Chris shut him down immediately, leaning back into his seat after Yuuri had silently scooted slightly farther away together with his chair, basically burrowing himself into Victor’s side. “Hmph,” Chris pressed his lips to the edge of his tea cup, “your reason is even more stupid.” His sip (and JJ’s boiling readiness to launch himself into a speech full of boasts and flaunting) was cut off by the faint sound of a ding, followed by Sara emerging to her feet. She crooked her head to the side, staring through the window of the entrance into the hotel’s lobby and toward the opening doors of the elevator. Three figures were spotted inside – one of them, Yuri Plisetsky. It was difficult not recognizing him. Even without the blaring leopard prints sewn into his sneakers and the pockets of his jackets or without the tiger image on his chest making him identifiable from miles away, he simply had a  presence. Petite and slim, a hood tucked over his pale blond mane, and the most viciously irritated look perpetually carved in his expression. He made even something as plain as standing still in an elevator look like a war declaration.

When Yuuri moved his gaze from Sara, who was just signaling to them that “the target was on the move,” he looked around toward the others at the table. JJ had a confident smirk on, although that was nothing new. Phichit’s calmness and Sara’s catty excitement were more worrying, though. It was as if they’d just seen a pit of snakes and they were eagerly waiting to see Yuuri, Victor, Chris, and Otabek try to turn it into a garden with butterflies.

“Mmm, alright,” Chris mused, downing the remaining of his rose petal tea elegantly. He sprung up from his seat, expression as focused and hesitance-free that was reminiscent of the way he carried himself on ice. “I’ll go first.”

“What do you mean ‘go’ first?” Michele grumbled. He wasn’t even in for the bet – not really. He’d simply tagged along out of fear of letting his sister surround herself with that many men, her being the sole woman. “That’s such a weird way of putting it.”

Victor pinched his chin, blinking. “Don’t you think we should make up a plan, Chris?”

“That’s _also_ something weird to say,” Michele insisted.

“A plan?” Chris turned on his heel, offering Victor an enchanting smile across his shoulder. His head fell backwards, one eye closing in on an already-victorious wink. “No more plans, Victor. In love, we are free.” And then he started walking off, leaving behind him an amalgam of voices all colliding with each other.

“In love?”

“Oh my god, just what do you think this is all about?!”

“Underage, Chris!”

“Sara, are you going to finish that cake?”

“If you dare touch Sara’s cake with that filthy fork of yours, I’ll shove it in your eye!”

Realizing that their positioning wasn’t all that advantageous to everyone, the remaining group decided to switch tables. Phichit took it upon himself to transport the sweets and drinks, occasionally munching on one macaron or two, to the new location while everyone else struggled to carry the chairs through the other tables filled with customers. Yuuri dragged his own right into the head of an innocent visitor and he spent a bit too much apologizing for it, so much that he had to be torn away by Victor. From their new seating, they could clearly see inside of the hotel lobby, where Yurio was seated as he idly chatted on his phone. The way Chris emerged from the revolving door was so off-the-charts that it made several trespassers inside stop in their tracks to stare. Not Yurio, though, even though he wasn’t exactly partaking in the conversation of the millennium. He was crooked and small in his sofa, one hand deeply dug inside of his jacket’s pocket, and most of his responses were monosyllabic and dry. But even that was gone once Chris gingerly grabbed the device and plucked it out of Yurio’s grasp.

“O-Oi!” As if blessed with the reflexes of a cat, Yurio rose up and leaped on the sofa with his knees, his hand clawing toward the cellphone which now hung high above Chris’ head. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you maniac?! Give me back my phone!”

After pressing the button to end the call, Chris slid his thumb away from the screen, tucking the device inside of his pocket with a swift move. It all happened so fast too – him hiding the phone, hurling himself on the backseat of the sofa, and his fingers barely grazing Yurio’s skin as he held his chin. “I can assure you, that call was definitely not as important as what you and I could be doing right now.”

Chris probably had a supernatural touch because the feeling of his fingertips had rendered Yurio completely baffled. His face was contorted in a grave expression of ultimate shock. It was only when one of Chris’ fingers moved against his skin that the tiger starting thawing, piece by piece. He felt that solace deep in his bones, rapidly climbing up his spine in a shudder that quaked him from the inside out. Strangely, Chris smiled, it was an understanding smile, almost a guiding one.

“You don’t have to tremble, _mon cher,_ I know I – “

“Gu – “

“Hm?”

Yurio finally ushered out a… well, a grumbled noise of sorts. His expression was still conquered by the same bewilderment.

“Ge – “

This time, Chris leaned in, clearly trying to decipher the chaos of his sleeping pattern.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!”

What happened next was shrouded in mystery to both Yuuri and the others, who’d been curiously observing from the outside. Some – like Michele and Victor – had attempted to be ‘stealthy,’ but the fact that they kept glancing from the menus they tightly held in their hands actually made them even more suspicious. What’s clear is that Yurio’s shout – no, his _roar_ – was enough to almost make the windows shatter in its wake, drawing the attention of those at the tables outside and, especially, of the other people in the lobby. Everyone immediately peeled their gaze from the scene, trying to hide away as best as possible.

“Oh, dear,” Sara uttered, a hand raised next to her face as a wall that sheltered her face from the eyes of those inside the hotel.

Yuuri wanted to melt away. Victor was hidden underneath a hat and a pair of glasses, his and Phichit’s faces deeply buried in their menus. Otabek was the only one who continued to sit straight and indifferent, even while noises of various casualties flooded their surroundings. There was a lot of yelling, most of which was Yurio and most of which was the panicked French of the personnel probably trying to keep him from committing to an act of murder. The commotion continued for a while, so no one expected to hear Otabek speak up.

“Ah, you’ve returned.”

Yuuri flinched, looking up to see Chris standing next to them. His face was expressionless and he stood completely still. No one else was saying anything, except for Yurio, whose voice continued to be heard from inside. After a moment, Chris held up his hand, which had a reddened area with some deep patterns carved into the flesh.

Suddenly, a laugh burst through the silence – Victor’s laugh. “He _bit_ you?” It was only then when Yuuri – and the others, apparently – understood that.

Chris nodded, his eyes hollow and distant. Without saying anything else, he resumed his seat at the table. Finally, after stealing a plate of cake from underneath JJ’s nose as he was about to dig in it, he spoke, “So, about that plan.”


	2. Attempt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the lobby fiasco with Chris, the squad decides to think their plans more thoroughly. This time, Victor thinks he has just the perfect suggestion. It involves rosehip and apple tea, mini-cakes, demonic poodles, and Yuri mood swings that are worse than riding a rollercoaster while drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just want to thank all of you lovelies who've read the first chapter and left kudos and/or comments! <3 The reception motivated me to push this story beyond my expectations and I ended up writing a chapter that's double the size of the previous one. Brace yourselves because this got unexpectedly feelsy.

It was dark.

When he’d retreated to his room, the sun was setting, sinking into the horizons and taking all the streaks of light with it. He’d flopped down on the bed, completely clothed and without doing even as little as slipping out of his sneakers. They were new and they definitely struck quite the impression, but they didn’t end up being as comfortable as the shopkeeper had promised him. They were only slightly tight in the beginning, she said. If he’d wear them for a few hours, they’d loosen up, she said. It was the poignant feeling of the blisters at the back of his ankles that had finally gotten him off the phone. That and the fact that he couldn’t stand browsing through the news feed any longer.

Yuri Plisetsky’s favorite meal revealed. Is Yuri Plisetsky dating one of his angels? Yuri Plisetsky spotted while climbing into a mysterious car.

Nothing mattered. Everything was a pile of pointless gossip. And when his career _did_ get invoked, it wasn’t any better.

_Will Victor Nikiforov reclaim his world record after his return?_

They were talking more about Victor’s theoretical reclaim of titles and achievements than they’d ever talked about when Yuri had broken the world record. About when he’d climbed on the highest step of the podium, the gold medal hanging around his neck, stained by droplets of tears and sweat alike. Why were they all that eager to dismiss him?

His fist, clenched with an iron grasp around the phone, hammered on the bed with a mellow thud, mitigated by the soft mattress. The back of his other hand pressed into his forehead, creased by the lines of a scowl which threatened to make his figure implode from anger. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, but he didn’t see anything. Since he’d returned to his room, the sun had set and the stars had painted the skies. It was too dark and it was only the moonlight and the life of the city lights soothing his solitude.

“Damn it,” Yuri breathed out, forcing himself up to a sitting position in a single, elegant leap. He gave his phone one last look before ditching it on top of the blanket and sitting up. After jerking the hood off his head, he buried his fists in the jacket’s pockets and numbly treaded toward the bathroom. His gaze was fixed on the floor the whole time, still to weighed down by the weariness accumulated throughout the day. When his fingers found the light switch through the brief opening of the door, the sudden flash of light filled his sight with a blinding whiteness. Still squinting, he pushed the door further and stepped inside. That was when he was… _greeted._

“ _Privyet,_ Yuratchka!”

His body reacted before his mind and it seemed that his heart stilled its heartbeats just to amass the energy to propel him across the bathroom right into the sink opposing the source of the voice. There may have been a scream involved too. From the safety given by this newfound distance, he observed the way Victor was lazily waving at him. Inside of the bathtub. Naked. Though Yuri didn’t really get to see, well, _everything_ for… proper confirmation. And thank goodness for that.

“Are you fucking insane?! Why the hell are you naked?! Why are you in my bathtub?! Why the hell are you in _my room_ to begin with?! I’m calling the police!”

“Now, now, Yuri, you don’t – “

“Don’t you dare stand up! Stay where you are!”

Victor blinked, his lashes fluttering with each motion in a way that embraced his features with a truthful innocence. That made it all the more annoying.

“But you asked me why I’m here. You want me to explain myself sitting naked in your bathtub?”

He made a valid point, hence Yuri intensely chewing at the inside of his cheek. If only that could help push back the warmth cruising through his veins and threatening to make his blood boil.

“It’s better than standing up,” his reply came flatter than expected, but the irritation was still laced in his voice.

After taking in a sharp breath, Victor uttered, “Well -- !”

**[ THE HOTEL LOBBY: 3 HOURS EARLIER. ]**

There was no plan, after all.

After Christophe’s premature return, most of the time was spent pointlessly arguing over which approach was the better one. They ended up dismissing almost all of them and only borrowing some pits and pieces from others. But in the end, it wasn’t enough for a concrete materialization. After their initial excitement had started to fade, swapped for weariness and boredom, the non-participating four left the restaurant table and everyone else headed into the lobby.

Victor sat down on one of the sofas gathered around a coffee table with all the best intentions in the world. But once he took out his phone, his absent browsing through various social media feeds ended up having him absorbed enough to forget everything about the plan, and the challenge, and the reward at the end of the journey.

“Are we going to do something, after all?” It was Yuuri who spoke up sheepishly, breaking the silence caused by everyone but him bonding with their devices.

And Victor looked up first, dazed, genuinely confused for a short moment.

“Oh, right,” he sighed, the phone’s screen darkening before disappearing in the pocket of the jacket he’d neatly laid on the armrest beside him. “I have an idea.”

“Not again,” Chris grumbled dryly, still dragging his thumb against the phone’s screen with an obvious lack of disinterest toward the content he was being subjected to.

“This time it’s a good one, I promise.” Victor leaned forward, a catty smile arching the corners of his lips. “Maybe we just need to get him alone.” His words seemed to be coherent enough to pique even the interest of Otabek, who’d been mostly side-lining all of their attempts at brainstorming.

Chris lowered his phone, “And do what?”

“Just have a nice, little chat.”

“ _That’s_ your big plan?”

“I’ll make some tea and buy mini-cakes.”

“You’re not asking him out on a date, Victor.”

Victor’s cheeks puffed, lips puckering in a pout that properly expressed the mix of frustration and disappointment that he was feeling. It made him look like a five-year-old throwing a fuss after being denied an expensive toy. “You always say my ideas are bad, Chris. It’s not fair!”

“I,” Yuuri cleared his throat, smoothing a finger over his chin as he pondered Victor’s words. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea. It’s more likely he’d show his more emotional side in private?”

Pressing his temple against his knuckles, Chris flashed Yuuri a knowing smile. “Oh, I’d say he shows his emotional side plenty of times. Anger is an emotion, isn’t it?”

“Er, well,” Yuuri scratched at his cheek, “I meant the _good_ kind of emotion, I guess.”

“Okay!” Victor suddenly brought his palms together in a mighty clap, which startled everyone else in their seats. He was already up to his feet and his irises were bursting with excitement, eyes dancing and glistening. “I’ll go ask for his room’s key!”

“Huh?” The obvious confusion in Yuuri’s voice made Victor turn around after having taken his first steps toward the reception desk. “Why are you asking for his key?”

“Well, after our beloved Chris gave him a mild trauma earlier today – “

“Don’t exaggerate, that line never failed on me.”

“ – I thought that he’d be too angry to let anyone into his room willingly.”

“… _Willingly?_ ” It was Yuuri again, nearly breaking a sweat from the sheets of anxiety that were starting to form layers around him. “Victor… Are you trying to break into his room?”

“It will be _fine,_ don’t worry about it.”

“No, I just,” Yuuri held up a hand and his expression showcased his struggle to say something, but there were too many things _wrong_ with this situation whirling in his head, so everything ended up being a senseless whirlpool of words. Finally, he heaved a sigh that sounded like defeat. “Can’t you at least _try_ knocking first?”

“…”

“Victor?”

“Alright.”

Chris joined in, “And what comes next?”

“I’ll go to the reception, tell the lovely lady there that I want to prepare a romantic surprise for my lovelier Yuri, I’ll take the key, get into his room while he’s having dinner, cozy everything up, and he’ll be filled with too much gratitude to get angry!” Victor’s fist rose above his head, pumping toward the heavens, a token of his pride and dedication toward the scenario he’d just crafted. There were some people staring, but none were as bewildered as Yuuri, whose head was lowly buried between his hands.

Chris, on the other hand, couldn’t help but laugh. “What a shitty plan. Go for it.”

“It’ll work,” Otabek spoke suddenly, though he still sounded disconnected from everything that was happening. “I heard Victor shouting earlier,” he cleared his throat and, suddenly, his voice took one that was eerily similar to Victor’s, “Yuuri. Where are you? I’m sorry for the fork incident. I’ll kiss it better, I promise.”

Nobody knew what was more eerie: the fact that Otabek’s speech was as flat as a wall, with no intonation variations, or the fact that his expression remained completely still and hollow. Yuuri’s head was still in his hands, but the way he was squirming in his seat proved he was only doing it to hide the steaming flush in his cheeks.

“Oh, I understand!” Victor beamed, stretching his index finger upward. “The receptionist will think it’s the same Yuuri, so I definitely can’t be a creepy stalker!”

Chris sighed, “Well, technically – “

“Alright, I’m going!”

“Victor!” Yuuri called again, but his voice sounded final, so Victor turned around again, this time aware he wouldn’t be asked for further clarifications.

“Knock first, okay?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

“And when he asks you what happened, it’ll be better to tell him the truth.”

“I’ll tell him the truth, Yuuri. Don’t worry!”

**[ BACK TO PRESENT TIMES. ]**

“Wait,” Yuri was rubbing at his forehead, low hisses trembling in his throat. “So… Let me get this straight… You were out shopping… And your room key slipped out of your pocket… What did you say it was that stole it?”

“An angry poodle.”

“An…” Yuri’s brow twitched. “Right, so… the poodle of hell stole it and ran away with it. While chasing it, you accidentally encountered a group of paparazzi… You ran all the way back to the hotel and you needed a room to hide in… You couldn’t use _any_ of the other rooms – literally _any_ other _goddamn_ room… Because you panicked and forgot the names of the other skaters?”

Victor’s encouraging nods were telling that he thought there was nothing wrong with the story. But he said nothing further, so it was still up to Yuri to conclude the tale.

“But you remembered Piggy’s name… Except he was out. And because you remembered his name, you remembered _mine_ too. So, you asked for my key, saw I wasn’t here, and took a shower because you were filthy.”

This time, Victor held two thumbs up, the tip of his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth approvingly. There was a pregnant pause engulfing them in a silence reeking of budding tension. Surprisingly, Yuri’s reaction was milder than he’d even allowed himself to think.

“Oi. Do you think I was born yesterday?”

“Of course not, that would make you a Libra. You’re way too anti-social for that!”

The next thing Victor saw was Yuri hurling a towel at him, towel which glued itself right to his face before falling in his lap.

“Put that shit on and get out of my room!” The tiger bared his teeth, gritted and seething with the remnants of all the frustration he’d piled up to this point. He was already on the way to the door, stomping his way there, so Victor quickly shot up to his feet, knotting the towel around the waist. When he poked his head out of the bathroom’s threshold, Yuri’s hand was already on the doorknob.

“I’m sooooooorry!” Uh oh, it wasn’t working. Yuri was shaking now, probably from the anger creeping up his spine. “I knew you’d get upset, so I made some tea and got some mini-cakes before coming here.” His voice was now sweetened and distorted by the pout that was so vivid on his face. “What am I supposed to do with all of them?”

“Like I care!” Yuri snapped, finally releasing the grip on the doorknob. “Go shove them down Piggy’s throat and make him fatter!”

“But I got them for _you!_ ”

And that was when Yuri’s nerves stopped their dance of wrath through his bones and his body stilled. His face was still painted by a deep scowl, but it wasn’t as creased by rage as before. At most, it betrayed mild annoyance. The two stared at each other for a stream of stretched seconds.

“If I eat your stupid mini-cakes – “

“Don’t forget the tea!”

“ – Your stupid mini-cakes and shitty tea! Will you _leave?_ ”

Victor was way too excited at the prospect and the vehement nods paired with his bright smile made him resemble a puppy who was about to be taken out for a walk. Yuri sighed and he held that sigh all the way back to the bed. On his way there, he finally flipped the switch, flooding the chamber with the light of the lamps scattered through the room. It was only then when he noticed the tray on the night table and the black box with a silky, red bow patiently sitting on the floor next to it. The tray held two empty cups, embellished with floral patterns and a ginger, frail golden streak around the mouth. The pot next to them had the same patterns and when curiosity urged Yuri to lift the cap, a scented cloud of steam fled its constraints and ascended toward his nostrils.

“What is it?” Yuri asked flatly.

“Rosehip and apple.”

Yuri twitched, a spark of a motion that didn’t scape Victor’s sight. _We’re heading somewhere,_ he thought, savoring the lack of a response from Yuri’s side. Sitting in a chair near the bed, he could barely contain the glee that began to flower in the pit of his stomach. He observed how Yuri put the lid back on the teapot and crouched down to pick up the box of mini-cakes in his hands. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he unknotted the ribbon and his face visibly lit up when he opened the box.

The continued quietness ushered Victor to address the curiosity that he was _certain_ Yuri harbored. “I got _petits fours, eclairs,_ macarons, _mille-feuille, religieuse_ – “

“Shut up already.”

Victor blinked. In the next second, Yuri was shoveling in the cakes. He munched on about three or four pieces until he decided to set down the box. It wasn’t something he _wanted_ to do, but rather something he had to do to avoid getting sick. Or because he was understandably mindful of his silhouette. Or both. Victor remained silent, biting down at his lip to prevent it from exploding into a joyous grin. When Yuri let out a content sigh, he took that as a cue. He had a warm tea by his side, he’d indulged in some sweet delights – the tiger looked more like a kitten than ever, even if the occasional side-eye or sullen silence said otherwise.

He knew he had to say something, to add the _cherry on top._ Yuri liked food, and cakes, and savoring delicate things, like a cup of rosehip and apple tea. What else would add to his comfort, to his peace and balance?

“Eat some more later,” Victor began earnestly, “I wouldn’t worry about adding weight in two days. Even so, it doesn’t matter to you. I know you’ll do a great job at the competition.”

The last thing Victor saw was a glimpse – Yuri’s eyes turning into moons in size, jolts of shock piercing through every angle of his face. Then, his gaze tore itself away from Victor’s and fell toward the ground. His head was bowed low, too low to decipher anything in his face, now hidden by cascades of blond strands sheltering it from foreign peers. Victor’s confidence was shattering, nervousness and confusion leaking through the cracks. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Was he thinking? Was he crying? Was he smiling? His motionless frame gave nothing away either. Victor decided to give him a few moments, but the prolonged tension was forcing words out of his throat. When his mouth finally opened to speak again, Yuri cut him off first.

“Who do you think you are?”

Victor was puzzled, the grim dread of expectation succumbing to his own confusion. “Huh?”

Yuri abruptly leaped to his feet, lugging the box of cakes after him. He hurled it away, barely missing Victor and landing at his feet instead. “Who the hell do you think you are?!” Yuri repeated again. Victor’s gaze left the sight of the squashed pastries on the carpet and when he looked at Yuri, he finally managed to make out his expression. It wasn’t anything like the irritation or irked facet he’d seen throughout the day. This time, it was rage in its _purest_ form, digging its roots deep into his eyes, darkened by the cloak of fury that blazed around him like a fiery mantle.

Long forgotten was Victor’s initial purpose. His mind was too focused on deciphering the question and the profound enmity that laded it. This was visible by the shift in his own expression, gloomed by the frown clinging to his brows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Yuri.”

“Of _course_ you don’t,” he snarled, his arm trembling from the intensity of the clench of his fist. “What were you thinking, huh? _Oh, I bet poor, little Yuri really needs to hear this from me! He better enjoy this season while it lasts because I’ll come back for my world record, and titles!_ ”

“What? I wasn’t – “

“You’re a fucking _idiot_ if you think this is what will happen, Nikiforov! Your days of glory are leaving you. Even if you take your records and titles back, they’ll keep returning to me. You better train Piggy well ‘cause it will take _both_ of you to even stand at chance. Tch.”

Needless to say, this was an unexpected turn. Thinking in hindsight, Victor realized he may had subconsciously chosen his topic of conversation like that. He admired Yuri, he admired Yuuri, but only at the expense of suppressing his competitive side, and envy, and _dread._ He was still glued to the times when Victor Nikiforov was the biggest, world-breaking name, when any skater would give anything to steal a compliment or word of encouragement from his lips.

“I ate your cakes. Now, leave.” Yuri cut him off before his thoughts could develop any further. In silence, Victor stood up, graciously stepping over the mushed eclairs. As he passed past Yuri on his way to the door, he could feel the aura around him burn at his skin. There was still anger, but there were traces of ambition and blazing determination, as well. Yuri followed after him, pulling the door open, and Victor stepped outside. On the doormat, he turned around, managing to catch Yuri midway through sealing the entrance again.

“Yuri.” His voice was sober, but soft. Yuri wasn’t looking at him through the small opening in the door. “I want you to know that I meant what I said.”

Yuri looked toward him, his eyes sharpened, like the predatory irises of a tiger. “Me too.” That was all else he said before slamming the door shut. From the other side of the door, many noises and rumbles could be heard, hinting that he was _really_ trying to make sure everything was properly locked.

Victor remained still, staring at the closed door for a moment. He was only broken out of his daze by the sound of footsteps and someone clearing their throat. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Yuuri, Chris, and Otabek, peeking around the corner into the hallway.

“Victor!” Yuuri beamed, his smile falling and making room for bewilderment as his eyes scanned him up and down. “Er, why are you in a towel?”

Chris pressed a hand to the top of his head and sighed, “I’m guessing that since he kicked you out half-naked, things didn’t go smoothly.”

It was barely the blink of an eye, but Victor suddenly transformed his serious and sullen expression into an exhibit of childlike smiles and giggles. “Nope! Anyway, let’s go back and think of something else!”

“Huh?!” Yuuri was petrified as Victor started to walk away from the door. “Victor, wait, you can’t just walk around in a towel!”

“I can just take it off if it bothers you that much.”

“N-No, that’s, that’s not what I meant!”

“Oh! By the way, do you think it’s possible to request another room key if I say I lost it?”

“Victor… You did tell him the truth, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you, but I can't decide if I feel more bad for Yuri, Victor, or all those perfectly fine cakes that got completely wasted. The next chapter will probably get even more emotional and I don't know if I'm ready tbh.

**Author's Note:**

> Take this as a preface of sorts. Everyone'll try to get on Yurio's good side one way or another. All I know is that chaos will ensure. Definitely. 
> 
> Till next time, folks! Tootles!


End file.
